Little Lion Man
by Miss92
Summary: James Potter was a lion man. Nothing could stop him and his courage never failed him. Yet the thought of Lily Evans made him tremble.
1. Chapter 1

**Little Lion Man**

Part 1

_Weep for yourself, my man,  
You'll never be what is in your heart  
Weep Little Lion Man,  
You're not as brave as you were at the start  
Rate yourself and rake yourself,  
Take all the courage you have left  
Wasted on fixing all the problems  
That you made in your own head_

_("Little Lion Man", Mumford & Sons)_

The first time James had asked Lily out, he hadn't been too surprised when she had downright exasperatedly refused him.

He supposed he was a bit of a git and he knew for a fact she disliked his antics greatly. She would roll her eyes or send him disapproving looks whenever he did something she deemed outrageous. In return he would wink at her or grin in her direction, which he knew annoyed her even further.

He didn't know what it was about her or why he liked to rile her up as much as he did, but he did know he craved her attention. Often he would find himself lying awake in bed, plotting his next scheme and picturing her reaction to it. He didn't know why, but his thoughts would always return to her.

Sirius wouldn't understand his fixation with Lily Evans. He would moan and grumble whenever James brought her up into conversation, but he couldn't help it, really. His friend couldn't take it anymore, however, and after yet another mention of her name when they were planning a prank on Slytherin's common room, Sirius let out an annoyed: "Why don't you just ask her out then?".

That stopped him. Stilled him. Asking Lily Evans out had never been a possibility in his mind, but when his friend mentioned it, something seemed to click. Because, of course, this would explain everything. His constant craving for her attention could only be explained by the fact that he wanted her, craved her with his whole being.

He planned it carefully, thought about it at night, practiced his words and considered his reaction to her saying yes as well as to her refusing him. Because even he knew his asking her out was going to be a long shot. She didn't like him.

He liked her, though. He liked her so much he was willing to humiliate himself and there was this small part of him, this tiny voice in his mind that kept telling him that perhaps – if he would ask nicely enough – she would say yes to him. It was a possibility, wasn't it?

When he saw her walking away from breakfast one morning he knew it was time. He couldn't hold it in any longer and he abruptly stood up, jogged up to her and greeted her with a grin and a breathless "All right, Evans?". He could feel his nerves and his heart seemed to flutter in his chest.

She eyed him out of the corner of her eye, asking him what he wanted and before he knew it, he had asked her. He asked her, smiled and waited expectantly. His eyes scanning her face as he felt sweat gather in the palms of his hands and at the top of his forehead.

The blow came soon and – even though he had prepared himself for it – somewhat unexpectedly. Her eyes were wide, her tone exasperated as she told him: "No!".

She rushed away, keeping her head to the ground and he just stood there, in the middle of the Great Hall. He heard people snickering in their food and he straightened his back, forced a grin on his face and made a show of shrugging and saying: "Your loss, Evans."

People laughed loudly as he sat himself down again next to Sirius, who clapped him on his back, shaking his head in laughter and saying: "Brilliant, Prongs! I didn't think you'd actually go through with that, but that was amazing!" James forced himself to grin at his friend, however, his next words made him drop the grin soon. "She looked disgusted!"

He nodded, mumbling something in agreement as he grabbed up his toast and took a huge bite from it. Anything to fill the empty feeling her refusal had left him with.

* * *

It took weeks for him to gather his courage again. Every time he would pass her in the hallways he'd feel the need to duck his head, to hide behind one of the armours or to just grab his invisibility cloak to be done with it. Instead of acting all of this out, however, he straightened his back, held his head high and would laugh loudly at something his friends said. Though he rarely even knew if his friends said something worth laughing about, he was always too focussed on her and her alone.

No one suspected James' agony. He kept plotting schemes and pranks with his friends and hexed a Slytherin every once in a while to keep up his reputation. He made sure no one would see how defeated he felt at the thought of Lily's refusal. No one was allowed to know about that.

Yet, despite the fresh pain Lily Evans inflicted upon him, his ego and arrogance – or was it his hope? – got the best of him after winning a Quidditch match. He had scored goal after goal, the crowds – excluding Slytherin – had chanted his name and his teammates had hoisted him up on their shoulders. He felt like he was the king of the world, grinning wide and pride swelling in his chest. He did it, he thought.

That night, he hadn't even anticipated it himself, he danced on top of a table in the Gryffindor common room, cheered on by his housemates. He felt joyful, gleeful and he roared with laughter at his friends' attempts to roar like a lion.

In that moment, he was thrown back to his childhood. His mother smiling proudly at him as he came back inside after playing in the garden all day. He would be covered in mud and grass stains, yet his mother would wait for him with open arms: "My little lion man," she would say and he would grin, his heart swelling at the reference to Gryffindor. That's all he had always wanted then: to get sorted in Gryffindor, to be deemed brave and courageous, to be a lion man.

He stopped dancing then, looked around the common room and found her near the table where all the Butterbeer was stored. She was talking to Mary MacDonald and smiling brightly. His heart swelled again and he realised she was what he wanted. She was what he would always want.

He jumped off the table and made his way towards her. He didn't notice the many eyes that followed him as he came to a stop in front of Lily Evans. She turned her head towards him and he couldn't contain his grin.

"Please go out with me," he said and he saw her eyes widen in surprise.

"Please?" she said, raising her eyebrows.

"Yes," he said, barely able to contain his joy at the fact that she had not yet refused him. "_Please_ go out with me!"

She looked at her feet and suddenly he noticed how silent the room had become. He turned his head and found the entirety of the Gryffindor common room watching his exchange with the redheaded Gryffindor girl. His eyes locked on Sirius' who stared at him, a confused look in his eyes.

"I-," said Lily and he turned his head to her again. She looked up at him now and he noticed a faint blush on her cheeks. "I thought I was clear last time."

He felt his heart sink and his hands started to tremble. "Yes," he said, the sound of his voice odd in his own ears, "but I didn't ask nicely then."

She bit her lip and looked past him. "Thank you for asking," she then said. "But it's still no."

He swallowed hard and he felt as though the pressure of the world was brought down upon his shoulders. He could feel everyone's eyes on him and he felt uncomfortable, wishing he could just disappear on the spot. He felt the corner of his lips go up; now would have been a good moment to wrap the invisibility cloak around himself. Of course, ironically, tonight he had decided to leave it in his room.

"Okay," he heard himself say as he turned around, his head bowed – he didn't want to meet anyone's eyes – and he ran up the stairs to his dorm.

He sat on his bed, taking off his glasses and rubbing his own eyes, feeling furious when he realised they were somewhat watery. He let out a deep breath as he let himself fall back on the bed.

* * *

He had thought he was done with it then. Done with _her_. But he wasn't. He sat on the grass in the middle of the Quidditch pitch and stared at the stars in the sky, her words ringing in his ears: "You think you're funny, but you're just an arrogant, bullying toerag, Potter." And: "I wouldn't go out with you if it were a choice between you and the giant squid!" That last part would actually make him laugh if his heart weren't so heavy.

He sighed and closed his eyes. He felt weak, no longer able to fight and he was afraid his courage would fail him from now on. Perhaps that was for the best, though, he thought then. Look what his so-called courage had brought him.

He opened his eyes and searched for Gryffindor tower. Light burst from every window, seemingly inviting him in. Sometimes, however, he doubted whether Gryffindor was really where he belonged.

Evans had been right, after all. He was a bully, as far removed from courageous as can be. He dropped his head in disappointment. He was no lion man.


	2. Chapter 2

**Little Lion Man**

Part 2

_Tremble for yourself, my man,  
You know that you have seen this all before  
Tremble Little Lion Man,  
You'll never settle any of your scores  
Your grace is wasted in your face,  
Your boldness stands alone among the wreck  
Now learn from your mother_

_Or else spend your days biting your own neck  
("Little Lion Man", Mumford & Sons)_

The first time he wore his Head Boy badge, he felt his courage plummet to the floor as his mother rushed to take a picture. "Could you smile, James?" she asked. The corners of his lips lifted into a smile just in time for the flash to appear.

"Happy?" he asked as he reached for the badge, unpinning it from his chest.

"What are you doing?" A pair of hands rushed to take the badge from his and he rolled his eyes. "You should wear that badge with pride," his mum said, pecking his cheek lightly. She took back a step, a fond look appearing in her eyes. "Look at you, so handsome."

He let out a sigh and looked at the ground. "Are we done, mum? We should meet Sirius at the station."

"Of course," his mother took out her wand and levitated his trunk out of his room. When James protested, his mother shushed him. "Last year of Hogwarts, son," she said, "last time I'll be able to see you off properly. Handling your suitcase is a tradition."

He sighed and followed his mother out of the room. The badge was heavy on his chest and his mood only worsened the longer he was wearing it. He didn't want the badge, he didn't ask for it and, most of all, he didn't deserve it.

"I do hope you won't sulk as much when meeting the Head Girl," his mother said sternly.

He almost laughed. "I don't think she'll be happy to see me, anyway."

His mother dropped his suitcase in the living room. "Is that what this is all about?" she asked, a frown apparent on her face. "Are you not on good terms with the Head Girl?"

He shrugged. "We don't talk, really." He felt his mother's eyes practically bore a hole into his head and he sighed. "Can we just go?"

His mother grabbed his hand and put her hand on his cheek. "I didn't raise you this way, my little lion man," she said and patted his cheek as she took the suitcase in her hand. "Shall we apparate?"

He nodded, feeling strangely relieved.

* * *

He hadn't thought she would have been able to work with him for longer than an hour, but she had surprised him on the Hogwarts Express already. She had seen him, his badge pinned on his chest and she had smiled brightly at him, saying that she had hoped it would have been him all along.

He had almost laughed at that. How could she have hoped for it when it was clear Dumbledore made a mistake in appointing him Head Boy? He had thought he'd caused enough trouble the past six years to make sure he would never have been taken into account for the position. But he had been wrong.

If you asked him, though, Dumbledore attempted to prank him or belatedly punish him by making him Head Boy. There was no way the man could have seriously considered him worthy of the post.

Yet, six weeks into his seventh year he found himself actually enjoying his duties as Head Boy. He didn't mind the prefect meetings, he liked docking points from the Slytherins at least and patrolling wasn't the worst thing one could do. Not to mention the fact that he had an excuse if Filch ever caught him again. He hadn't thought so before, but the phrase "I'm Head Boy" might have been the most useful sentence he ever muttered in Filch's presence.

However, even he had to admit to himself that perhaps he only liked being Head Boy as much because Lily Evans was the Head Girl. She was exquisite, a born leader and so very organised that he thought McGonagall would have been jealous of her skills.

He smiled at that thought as he leaned against the wall, an attempt to look casual and relaxed, an attempt to look as though he couldn't be bothered by the fact that Lily Evans would run down the stairs in a moment with flushed cheeks, cheerful eyes and messy hair. Because the only thing he thoroughly disliked about his Head Boy duties was the fact that before every single one of their scheduled patrols, Lily Evans would meet up with her Ravenclaw boyfriend: Rupert Wheatley.

The guy was a git, really. Worse than he had ever been. But Lily clearly liked him and, even though it annoyed him to no end, he never insulted him in her presence.

He sighed as he looked at his watch. She was five minutes late already and he scrunched his nose at the thought of her snogging the git at that very moment.

He considered leaving and running up to his dorm to think about pranks he could play on Slytherin together with his friends, but he knew he couldn't leave. Lily would have his head.

At that very moment he heard hurried footsteps on the stairs. He looked up and there she was. His stomach turned and he quickly averted his eyes, pushing himself off the wall.

"Sorry," she said breathlessly.

He shrugged and fell into step beside her. His nerves were on edge and he swallowed hard. He really should have been able to control himself by now, but she was his weakness and he doubted he would ever become immune to her.

He heard her sniff and he stiffened. He looked at her from the corner of his eyes and he noticed that the tip of her nose was red and that her eyes were somewhat blotchy.

He decided to ignore it. It wasn't his business, really. Even though he really wanted it to be his business.

She sniffed again and he let out a sigh, raking his fingers through his hair.

"All right, Evans?" he asked.

She let out a small laugh. "Nope," she said then, sounding bitter, "but that's okay." He nodded, looking for the right thing to say when she sighed and said: "You're much nicer than Rupert is."

His heart started beating rapidly and he suddenly felt very hot. He didn't know what to do, he didn't know what to say, so he attempted a chuckle and: "Nah… don't think I am."

She was silent for a bit and then looked at him. Her green eyes wide and somewhat watery. "I broke up with him," she said, smiling sadly. "He called me a tart."

"Oh," he said, looking at his shoes. His ears must have turned red by now, that always happened when he felt uncomfortable and he nearly always felt uncomfortable around her. "I would never call you that."

"That's why you're nicer than him."

There was a finality in her voice and he realised she didn't want to say any more about it. He didn't want to say anything else about it either, really. Her words only confused him and – though he wouldn't admit it to himself – her words made him hope.

Hoping, however, was something he had forbade himself over a year ago.

* * *

He shivered from the cold, rubbing his hands together. His hair was going to freeze up for sure as it was still wet from the hot shower he took only fifteen minutes before. He should have run up to the castle straight after, happy to know the party would start as soon as he entered the room.

There was not going to be a party, however, and this made him frown. He hated it and he hated that stupid Daphne Montague for catching the Snitch after knocking out his seeker – little, fragile Rose Wood. But most of all he hated himself for not scoring nearly enough.

He let out a sigh and sat down on the cold grass on the Quidditch field. He blamed himself. He blamed himself more than anything for losing against Slytherin. He had been so sure of winning, so sure his tactics were everything he would need to defeat the opposing them. But it hadn't been enough and losing to Slytherin… it was the ultimate defeat. He sighed heavily, dropping his head on top of his knees.

He sat there for a while. Was it minutes, hours? He couldn't say exactly, but when a hand dropped on his shoulder he found himself jump into the air.

"Sorry," a voice said from behind him, "I didn't mean to scare you."

He closed his eyes. She was the person he least wanted to see at this moment. He wanted to drown in his own failure and he needed to do that alone.

"How is your pity party?" she asked, sitting down beside him. A strand of her hair brushed his cheek, leaving it tingling. "Looks like you're having a blast."

He groaned. "You're not invited," he mumbled in his hands. He still hadn't looked up and he did not intend to do so anytime soon.

"Disappointing day, right?" she asked.

He could only agree, but instead he chose to ignore her, which was a task that needed all of his focus and concentration.

"I know how hard you worked to win," she continued and he stiffened when she placed her hand on his shoulder blade. "You should have won, really. Would have if Montague hadn't kicked Rose off her broom."

He shrugged, conveniently getting her hand to fall off her shoulder. The heat radiating from her hand had made it impossible for him to breathe.

"We ought to make Montague patrol twice as much this month," she said, "don't you think?"

He looked up at her then. She looked serene the way she sat there. A warm cloak was wrapped around her shoulders and her fingers had now busied themselves to play with the grass. Her eyes were focused on the stars above them, but when she noticed his head had left his arms, her eyes turned to him.

"You like that, don't you?" she said, a smile on her face. "Of course, Sirius already planned a massive prank during breakfast tomorrow morning…"

He kept staring at her and then he said it. He didn't know where it came from, but there it was. He told her the truth.

"I am no lion man."

She stared at him. "Excuse me?"

He sighed. "I am no Gryffindor. Not truly."

He waited for her to answer, to say something, but she fell quiet and so did he. For minutes the only sound he could focus on was the sound of her breaths leaving her mouth. He supposed she must think he was right, he knew he was.

But he couldn't stand it. He couldn't stand the silence and he couldn't stand her silent agreement. He wanted her to tell him he was wrong that he was a Gryffindor through and through, but of course she wouldn't agree. Didn't she once make him realise he was not a lion man when she told him he was a bullying, arrogant toerag?

He could hear a sharp intake of breath next to him and then: "I've been waiting for you to ask me out ever since you stopped."

He could swear his heart had stopped beating. Whatever it did, it certainly skipped a few beats as he turned his head to look at her.

A blush had risen to her cheeks and she had never looked more adorable. "I am the coward here," she said, a smile playing at her lips. "You have always been a lion man through and through. You were never scared, you never cared what I would say…"

He shook his head. "Never _cared_?"

"Seemingly," she said and he felt her hand grab his, she squeezed it lightly. "Why don't you try again? Be bold."

He chuckled and chanced a look at her. She looked at him expectantly, almost hopeful and his heart swelled in his chest.

"Go out with me?" he asked, nerves running up and down his throat.

She smiled then. "All right, if you want to…"

A smile spread across his face as his heart seemed to be busy trying to find a way to jump out of his chest. She smiled as well, leaning into him and pecking him on the cheek.

"If after all those rejections you still dare ask me," she declared, "you truly are a lion man."

He grinned.


End file.
